


Cozy Hour

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Fluff and Humor, Food Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: A brief look at Noct's volunteer work as Sunday morning taste tester to the head chef of Specs'. [A small snippet from the world ofSecret Ingredients.]





	Cozy Hour

Sundays were for scones. And for the one day of the week Noctis managed to coerce Ignis into keeping Specs’ closed. He’d reminded Ignis that it was to the benefit of his employees that he give the place a break once a week, and the thin fracture of guilt that snapped across his face nearly broke Noctis in half.

It had been in the early days of the restaurant. Ignis was still learning the business aspect of running such a successful enterprise. Specs’ had hit the ground running, and while he was so proud of the immediacy with which it enchanted diners, Noctis knew that it also overwhelmed Ignis. He got caught up in the spells and the recipes and became as much enthralled by the magic of the place as the people he aimed to please.

So, Sundays were for scones. Because if Ignis wasn’t working his craft throughout Specs’, he was a nuclear reactor on the verge of imploding into catastrophic throes of creative insignificance.

It was healthier for the both of them to give him something to focus on. Mentally, not necessarily dietary. While Ignis had experimented with lighter batters on the innumerable Sundays he’d forfeited his work ethic for, he’d ultimately concluded that the best scones were the ones where he didn’t cut corners.

Noctis was instrumental in determining both his failures and his successes. He provided helpful audio cues to determine if the crumbly bundles of dough were worthy of approval or not. Vague grunts and evasive eye contact was the most polite form of dismissal he could offer. Deep moans and eye rolls of pure ecstasy when he was presented with the most delectable offerings. After particularly taxing endeavors, the sounds of approval prompted Ignis to kiss him into the mattress the second he swallowed, thyme still left on his tongue.

“You know that you could start a whole brunch menu with these things, don’t you?”

“That would defeat your entire purpose for having me make them.”

Noctis gathered the sweet, citrusy syrup on his plate with his last bite of scone, careful to catch the crumbs from landing on the bed. He knew that it bothered Ignis when his apartment was in disarray. Another virtue of convincing him to take Sundays off was that he could share some of the same attention he gave to Specs’ with his little studio.

Although Noctis rather liked the lived-in look of Iggy’s apartment. It was a vulnerable space. The lung to Specs’ heart. The breaths that kept it still beating. And it filtered through all of Ignis’ ideas for new additions to Specs’s menu. It was as inventive and intimate as the inside of Ignis’ mind. And it smelled just as nice as he did, no matter how messy it could get in the summers when his duties at the restaurant forced him to neglect the upkeep of his apartment.

Lemon and lavender with an orange-vanilla glaze. The studio smelled fresh with zested citrus and the lazy, floral perfume of the herbs. It made him feel warm from the outside-in. And the steamy, buttery crumble of the scone in his stomach worked its warmth from the inside-out.

“You could have a Cozy Hour instead of a Happy Hour,” Noctis insisted. “Coffee and scones to swap out wine and cheese.”

“And put you out of a job?” Ignis chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t wish to part with the friends and family benefits you so generously allow.”

“You’re not my friend. And you’re _definitely_ not my family. You don’t get my benefits.”

“I beg to differ.”

Ignis spared him a glance from above the mixing bowl, stirring in rosemary while he appraised his taste tester. Noctis smirked, slow and indulgent. He was hardly looking his best in boxers and an old gray pullover, but Ignis had a way of looking at him that made him feel like more even on his sloppiest days. While he said that he never cast spells on him, Noctis didn’t believe for a second that his covetous glances like that one weren’t magical.

The glint in his eyes was electric, charging the entire space. Noctis always felt the air change, always felt the static of his power crackle between them when he looked at him with his temperate possessiveness. The scents and the sounds of the apartment grew so much more intense. He could taste the aromas of the herbs hanging from the cupboards across the room. He could smell the muffled hum of the oven in the subtle burn coaxed throughout the apartment.

He could feel Ignis’ hands on him where they wound around the rim of the bowl and worked the spatula through the dough, long, lithe fingers dusted in flour. He could see them leaving white fingerprints against his own skin, could feel the dry slide of the flour between them, smell its odd and distinct perfume grow stronger as Ignis seduced the heat to simmering beneath his skin.

“What’s that?” Noctis asked, vacant as a dream.

“White cheddar and rosemary biscuits. There’s a distinction between biscuits and scones, you know. It has to do with…”

“What _spell_ , Specs?”

“None at all, Noct. I’ve told you…”

“Liar.”

Noctis challenged him with a grin, setting his empty plate aside and stretching a bare leg across the rumpled comforter, leaving the other tucked beneath him for his hands to lean on. Ignis had the audacity to duck his gaze back down to his dough, the overhead lights casting a glare against his glasses.

“The only time I’ve lied to you was about the secret ingredient to the lamb stew special.”

Noctis blinked, quiet for a moment, all thoughts of seduction stalled over this confession. “You mean… it _wasn’t_ ginger puree in the stock?”

Ignis quickly transferred the bowl to the other counter to spoon the batter onto a baking sheet, turning his back on Noctis. He muttered an answer that he could not hear.

“Specs…”

“It was carrot puree.”

“I’m breaking up with you. And there’s no amount of magical scones in the world that can win me back!”

“I’m so sorry to have betrayed you, Noct. I understand the depths of my depravity and beg you to reconsider.”

Noctis crossed his arms and glared at his back until Ignis turned to face him. Which took far too long for his judgment’s liking. Ignis took his time making sure the batter was divided evenly on the baking tray and slid it into the oven before he finally turned back to Noctis. He ran one hand over the other to clear away the thickest coatings of flour, casting up clouds like fairy dust from his fingertips. Noct’s irate glare couldn’t help but weaken at the way his hands worked.

Ignis crossed the room and bumped his knees into the edge of the bed in front of Noctis, hooking a floury hand around the back of his neck before he could protest. He was kissed deep and hard, moaning grievances against the seal of Iggy’s lips when the chef deliberately ran his white hands through Noct’s black hair.

“Seriously?” he gasped when he was finally released. “I was trying to keep it neat over here.”

“Aw. You do still care. I assume that means I’m forgiven?”

“You’ve got a lot of work to do still for my forgiveness, Specs.”

Ignis glanced over his shoulder at the timer on the oven. “I expect I can get a lot of work done in fifteen minutes.”


End file.
